. And more boys die than girls, so that the real disproportion among adults is even greater. ’ Chapter Six Creeping along the dark narrow passage, with lantern held well ahead to keep her step steady on the uneven stones—and to warn her of the advent of rats— Melusine kept her long petticoats fastidiously clear of the dirt with an efficient hand, a habit she had learned in the convent. Meantime, a change had taken place in the weather. She felt that perhaps, in her desire to play an adequate part in the conversation, she had talked rather more freely than she ought to have done, and given him a wrong impression of herself. She thought of the suitcase, the seventy-seven dollars for a Greyhound ticket that had expired. Sure, I lose one occasionally—if he stays in New York. But I see now. She had heard of women journalists, women writers, and so forth; but she was not even admitted to the presence of the editors she demanded to see, and by no means sure that if she had been she could have done any work they might have given her. Cheveney was looking after her, I think, then.
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